My Friend Clementine
by LucasGreenX23
Summary: Life inside Howe's was a miserable experience. Tensions were high, our leader was nearing his breaking point and the world seemed to get worse everyday. Me and my group often wondered which side of the walls was safer. Then Clementine arrived and in one day I made a true friend. It felt good, I was happy... Really happy. Clem was my friend, or at least that's how it started.
1. New Girl in the Howe's

**New Girl in the Howe's**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to 'The Walking Dead Game'; it is strictly the property of TellTale Games. Please support the official release.**

 **(Becca's POV)**

I remember the day Clementine first stepped foot through the heavy metal gate that was 'Howe's' front door, as though it were yesterday.  
I say 'front door' in the loosest way possible, not because it had once been the main entrance to the building, but rather it was our one and only means to get outside that wasn't blocked by thick iron bars or a pretty large drop. No, the former loading bay was our, by which I mean 'Us Prisoners', one glimpse of sweet juicy freedom; at least until Troy blocked it back up with his God Damn Truck! In retrospect it's no wonder Carver kept the thing guarded at all times.

The bearded psycho was kind of a dick that way… you know, on top of being a psycho… and bearded.

Yeah Clem didn't think it was funny the first time I told her either. Different tastes I guess?

Anyway, it was near the end of the second week in a row since Carver had left, still on the hunt for the 'missing' group. Although 'missing' had been the word Carver used, everyone else at Howe's Hardware/Survivors Camp knew better. Carver was a psycho, a bomb with a half-second timer, or as Eddie called him, "A bear with a cactus up his ass". Even with the seemingly endless amount of backbreaking work Carver put us through, that one comment still made us laugh every once in a while.  
Nah, Carver had a different agenda. He didn't want what he considered to be his property to escape.

Frankly if they wanted to risk their lives out there in the cold with the Lurkers, I'd say let 'em go. Far as I was concerned it was the weak-links and head-cases that left anyway, so who cared? Rebecca and Carlos, those two were assholes just like Carver, always complaining about every little stupid thing. Luke walked around like he was the big man in charge, at least when he and Carver weren't butting heads. And as for Sarah… Sarah was the worst.  
At first, a little after their group arrived, I truly thought we could be friends. I mean how lucky could I get, the youngest person I'd talked to since the world when crazy was this guy from my group, Russel, the guy was only sixteen and he still talked down to me. Now I'd get to hang out with someone my own age, sounds great right? Well that was before I talked to her; And Oh My God, it was like talking to someone who'd spent the last two and a half years in a soundproof box, buried miles underground and stuffed with packing peanuts! Sarah was the very definition of the word sheltered. Heck, my big sister Shel taught me enough about the state of the world and everything on it to know how to kick butt with the best of 'em, but Sarah was a lost cause, there was no way she could last a day on the outside. Her dad watched her like a hawk, and the first time I try and talk to her, she says to me… "You should go, I can't talk to you. My dad says you're a 'Bad Person'."

A Bad Person?! What the flying fudge was that about? Who did her dear old dad think he was, I'd never said two words to the guy and as for Sarah, she wouldn't say another word to me after, every time she'd just blank me. Acted like I wasn't even there. I don't care how petty it sounds, once she and the others ran off, I hoped she'd get chomped. Get herself a nice big hickey from a passing Lurker. Anything to take Miss holier-than-thou down a peg or two, same with her douchey dad. If him and others wanted out of the only survivor camp with water and power for who knows many miles, it was their funeral.  
Unfortunately I wasn't that lucky; Not only did Carver drag them all back in chains, (all except old man Pete and Carver's stooge Johnny, for some reason), but they also brought friends with them.

I remember thinking, as Carver strode confidently ahead of the fresh meat, 'Great, the bearded psycho's back! And he brought more mouths to feed.'

But that was Carver in a nutshell, the guy was a survivor. He knew what he wanted and he wouldn't stop till he got it. He couldn't have stayed gone; no the universe wasn't that generous apparently. Tavia, the fat cow he'd left to run things in his place was a real hard ass, but I'd take her over Carver any day.

My sister and I were taking inventory of the survey group's latest haul when the weak-links returned. Mostly bottles of shampoo and toothpaste, but hey beggars can't be choosers. The group marched in two's through the heavily guarded hall like some sick parade of human misery; my sort of friend Russel was one of the guards posted on the walk ways, lording over the hapless prisoners/workers with their big guns. He told me most of them had this defeated look about them, as he put it. Like they'd just given up. Now I only got a glimpse through the gap in a shelving rack, all I could see was Carlos getting dragged in one direction while Sarah and some other girl got pushed toward the pen by Tavia.

"He'll be back…" At least I think that's what I heard the girl say, and when Sarah asked when that would be she replied, "I don't know, but he will be back." And of course she, the girl who I'd later learn was named Clementine, was thanked.

You have to understand, at the time I didn't understand. I didn't know Clementine. I didn't know where she'd come from and what she'd been through. I didn't know how amazing she was. I didn't…

Look, mistakes were made. Mistakes and regrets that if I could take back I would. I had only just turned fourteen and the only family I had was my big sister, the person that nature dictated I wasn't supposed to get along with except on trips to Disneyland or when we're in our twenties and living separately. At the end of the day, what I did lead to where I am now. Would things be different if I'd done things differently? Would I even want to? I don't know. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The moment I saw Clementine or as I knew her at that moment, 'Clem', get thanked by Sarah of all people! Well needless to say, I wasn't happy. My group was here first, then Carlos arrives here with his ditzy daughter, his group drives the bearded psycho even further over the edge, and he has the nerve to call me a bad person. But oh wait a second… apparently this random girl covered in blood, sweat and what I hoped was dirt, was worthy of almighty Sarah's friendship. How blessed she must be.  
Sarcasm aside, I was ticked off. Of course Sarah had to come back, but she also brought a friend. Great, two people near my age I can't talk to.

I watched as Troy ordered the prisoners through to the pen. From up in his proverbial ivory tower, Carver announced his latest royal decree to us lowly peasants. For some reason I thought back to my old house, specifically the 'Robin Hood' adventure book on my nightstand that I never finished reading. It's probably still there now.

"Becca, we have to finish taking stock. Carver's back now, if he catches us not working…" I heard my sister say beside me. Looking up I could see Carver wasn't at his office window anymore. Which was all the more reason to get busy; you never knew when the psycho might spring out at you like some demented jack-in-a-box.

"Whatever, so how come 'Grizzly Adams' brought new folks back?" Shel acted skittish for about a minute, her eyes darted this way and that, before they fell back on me.

"Bec for the love of God, don't say stuff like that out loud! Do you wanna get thrown in the pen? Cause that's what he'll do if he finds out." I didn't like what the end of the world did to my sister. She went from my sporty, movie watchin' buddy to full on den-mother. Lots of fun to no fun at all. Maybe that was my problem, deep down I knew she cared but I just couldn't accept it. I wanted my sister, not a stand in for mom.

"Hey, you guys see the newbies? They have a kid, an honest-to-God kid. Hell she's even smaller than you Bec." Russel was leaning against the shelving rack we were organizing, both hands held a tight grip on his rifle, almost as though he was expecting trouble.

"Jesus Russ, don't sneak up on us like that. I thought you were Carver… and who are you calling small?" I liked Russel, I really did. The guy always knows when to talk and when to keep it shut. He's careful, but not overly so. Nice guy.

"Relax Lil' Becky, Boss man's talking' business with Tavia. Troy's on watch at the pen and Stan's gotta work double time on the main door. We got a few minutes to ourselves."

"What's wrong with the door?" My sister had a knack for butting into conversations. A skill I had yet to master.

"How did you not hear? Troy backed into the damn thing and almost ripped it off the wall, now it won't close all the way." Pretty sure I was being phased out of the conversation about now.

"Are we in any danger? The Lurker swarm is only a few days away."  
"Relax, if Stan can rebuild half a truck engine, he can fix a dented door."  
"I know I just worry. Nowadays it's like, if something can go wrong, it goes wrong."

"What'd I tell you about calling me Lil' Becky?!" I thought it sounded intimidating, but Shel and Russ's rising grins told me otherwise.

"Tell you what, the second you can high-five me without jumping, that'll be the day I stop calling you that." I knew better than to challenge him on that. I still had my dignity, though it was lessened slightly when he mussed my hair as he left. This is why I liked Vince and Russel so much; they were like brothers to me. Big doofus brothers, but they made things fun, even if it was just a funny comment or a poorly executed high-five. I think my sister liked Vince, but for completely different reasons. None of that for me though, I hadn't met a guy I liked like that… still haven't to this day.

Well after so many hours of counting label-less grey cans that could contain anything from dogfood to reindeer meat, Tavia finally came down from the office to let us rest for the evening. Behind her I spotted Alvin being led up the stair case of almost no-return. From what I'd heard Shel and Wyatt talking about Carver's involvement with Rebecca, something told me we wouldn't be seeing much of Alvin after today. Does that sound harsh? Looking back, yes. But at the time all I thought was, 'I don't like Rebecca, and if this gets to her, who am I to get in the way.' I made toward the living quarters with Shel, but Tavia's big arm blocked my way. The other shoved a broom at me.

"Carver said he wants you to sweep the loading area, those escapees tracked allot of dirt through there so you're gonna be busy for a while." God I hated that woman; it wasn't enough that I was gonna miss dinner over this, but that condescending grin of hers told me she was happy about it. I liked her better when she first brought my group here; she seemed more genuine back then, now she just seemed jaded and kinda cynical. I guess you really can't judge a book by its cover, or maybe you can in Carver's case.

"What? No, we've been working all day. She's tired, she needs to eat and get some rest." Shel was at a weird cross road with me during her more than a little embarrassing outburst. On the one hand I was happy she cared, and I really didn't wanna sweep the entire loading bay by myself. But her coddling and way of speaking made it sound like I'm a toddler, a baby who can't do things for herself or worse, Sarah!

"Oh yeah, well Carver just thought that if you two have time to yak it up with the guards, then clearly you're not working hard enough. Or maybe you are workin' hard, and you just decided to goof off. Now I wonder what he'd say to that, hmm Shel, what do you think?" Forget being embarrassed; now I was pissed. Shel had this tired look about her, like she wanted to say more and probably could, but it would just be a waste of air. Reluctantly she was led off by Wyatt. He quickly shot me a look of silent apology but my mind was too tired to respond.  
I don't know if you've ever stayed up late after a really busy day at school, or maybe work? I did once. After a while I started seeing black spots in my vision and my head felt like I was balancing a pole up there with a fat pigeon on one side.

That was how I felt at this very moment. An entire warehouse to sweep, by myself, next to a busted door that may or may not have Lurkers on the other side. And to think, people thought Carver was a bad leader. I know right? Where'd they get such crazy thoughts. Stepping through the double doors I had to resist the urge to groan. It looked even bigger when I was tired.

Over by the door were Stan and some guy with a gun whose name I'd never learned, mainly because I didn't care. The door was open slightly at the bottom. I'm pretty sure if I got on my hands and knees I could probably crawl under there with no trouble. Not that I ever would of course. If there's one thing running away from our old leader, Roman, taught me. It was to know when to stand strong and when to run. I still had no regrets for what we did at the dinner, under Romans orders. We did what we had to do. But the guy was losing it and unlike Carver, Roman wasn't outgunned if (or rather) when he went off the deep end.  
I got to work sweeping right away, my hope being that I could still eat something before lights out. But the dirt and dust was thick; I kid you not, the floor was a different color underneath. Which sadly meant I couldn't sweep at a fast pace. One missed spot and Carver would be on my case with a toothbrush in one hand and a moist napkin in the other, demanding I do it again.  
My legs hurt. My head hurt, my… well let's just save time and say that everything hurt. I mean really? Berry picking at the crack of dawn, or sometimes you're sent out scavenging for supplies; then building extensions to our perimeter fence, one quick break and then we were back to the fence. The stronger of us clear out the few wondering Lurkers still shuffling around in the parking lot, whilst the rest got to work on either inventory or guard duty. And of course those of us whom the supervisors claimed 'did a piss poor job' or whoever they didn't like at the time got shafted with the late night cleaning. I was the latter. Some days Howe's felt less like the oasis Carver said it was and more like a slave labour camp, with prisoners who'd willingly walked in. Well not all of us, but the extras in Sarah's group were guilty of association. No way would Carver risk leaving a few able bodies behind, especially with a swarm on the march.

I'd been sweeping for what felt like an eternity. Occasionally I'd hear a dirty remark from Stan as he worked away on the door, and every now and then his guard would climb under the door and comeback with just a little more Lurker blood on him then the last time. I never heard a single gunshot and the guy just went back to standing there like nothing had happened. Honestly, that scared me more than any Lurker. Lurkers are predictable; but people? You never know what they're going to do.

The sound of rustling paper snapped me out of my thoughts; on the ground, under a thin layer of dirt was what appeared to be a ripped picture. Specifically it was a ripped photograph of a dark skinned man, his face smiling and looking cheerfully at the camera. Glancing back at the two men, both distracted by their own menial tasks, I dusted the picture off and took a look at the back. Someone had written on it, in surprisingly neat handwriting.

It read…

 _Dear Clementine_

 _I thought if anyone should have the other piece of this picture, it should be you.  
Today you made me promise I'd never leave you. A promise I intend to keep.  
I know what happened with the dairy farm and now Lily was scary,  
but don't let it sour you on other people. Because people, they can surprise you  
in so many ways. Like when Hershel fixed up my leg. Or every time Kenny takes charge  
when there's trouble. I guess what I'm trying to say is, go with your gut.  
Having a little trust has saved our lives more than once.  
And you've got a lot of life to live. _

_Always here for you… Lee._

Nearly the entire back of the photo had writing on it. Clearly this, 'Lee' had more than a few things to say. From the name at the top it wasn't hard to guess who it belonged to; I had a feeling the name 'Clem' was short for something. The picture was worth nothing to me, but to Sarah's little friend, it was probably priceless.

For a while, as I swept the growing dirt pile toward the open door, I thought about handing the snapshot over to Carver. It might get me out of this work, could even get me a few shower privileges, which in this world today is beyond a luxury.

But I didn't. I know; survivalist, look out for number one, the weak vs the strong and all that crap. But for a split second, it dawned on me. I don't have a single picture of my parents and if someone did what I was thinking about doing, to me. I don't know what I'd do. Hell, I'd probably be a complete wreck.

I didn't like Sarah and I had no loyalty to her friend. But if nothing else, I could use this to wipe away that 'Bad Person' remark. Maybe I was too hung up on it? I just don't take insults very well, never have.

Scanning the room for prying eyes, I stuffed the picture inside my jacket.

"Hey, Becca! Get back to work; if Carver comes down here to supervise we'll both be on thin ice." I don't think Stan noticed my hand in my jacket. That was good, one slip up and he'd have me thrown to wolves in a New York minute. Anything to boost his rep with the boss. Guy was still on Carver's bad side after our first truck cracked an axle and he couldn't fix it.

"Sorry Stan, just a lot of dust in the air. Gets everywhere you know."

"Whatever." Fortunately Stan wasn't so bright when it came to people; Trucks, motors and general machinery were his lot in life. But he was forever in a nose dive when it came to social sense. The man couldn't tell sarcasm from a fact in National Geographic. Or a joke from a serious order. A real stick in the mud that one, there was probably a reason but I didn't know him well enough to ask; which was probably the smarter option.

As I got back to sweeping, I had to ask myself how I would get this picture back to the girl with the dirty hat. Would she or the others even be let out? And what would I say if we met? Would she be angry? Grateful? I wondered if she'd cry.

Who knew? Maybe I'd get a buddy outta this place yet.

 **A/N: Please review and follow; Your honesty and support are greatly appreciated.**


	2. Our Howe's Now

**Our Howe's Now**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to 'The Walking Dead Game'; it is strictly the property of TellTale Games. Please support the official release.**

I can't remember when I finally crashed that night. Hours of repeatedly sweeping each and every black and white tile to, as Stan had said, 'A high mirror shine'; Hell, I was prepared to sleep wherever I dropped. I felt sick; for the few hours of sleep I'd somehow managed, I was woken over and over by a pounding headache. My hands were calloused and red raw, my feet hurt and every damn muscle was throbbing to the beat of my heart. Guess Stephanie was right, I really am made for music.

I woke up the next morning to the feeling of someone running their fingers through my hair; and I swear to God, for a split second I thought it was Carver.

Now I was half asleep at the time and really anyone would have shrieked like a scared flamingo if they thought a perv was rubbing their head. It's a perfectly natural response. No, I think what really caught my violator off guard was, after I re-enacted a bird mating cry, I fell out of bed. My face kinda hurt, but at least my sister had a good laugh.

"Oh Becca, you sound just like dad's old parakeet." Personally I would have said flamingo, but whatever. Oh and wiping a tear from her eye, how cliché. On the lighter side of things, it was good to see Shel laughing again. Such sounds were seldom heard inside Howe's walls.

"Shel, remember that little talk we had about personal space?" I picked myself up and dusted myself off. For once I was grateful the cots they gave us to sleep on were so low to the ground.

"Aww, but Bec you used to love when I stroked your hair while you slept."

"Yeah, when I was like three. Then, it was cute. Now, it's creepy." My sister was about ten when I was born. Back then she'd drag me this way and that, showing me off like I was a little doll or something. I didn't care though, I was just happy for all the attention. Simple age with simple pleasures as mom would say.

"Remember how I used to carry you around, showing off my baby sister to anyone and everyone? You were so cute back then." How's that for Déjà vu. I love my sister, I really do. But she knew I didn't like all that mushy, hallmark junk. Shel was one of those people who wore her feelings like a crown for all to see; I am not that sort of person. See I buried my feelings under a mountain of half read books and thinly veiled sarcasm. In the last two years before Howe's, my emotions were locked safe in my guitar, only let loose on my time, when I said so; then Carver took it with the rest of my groups things, and I hadn't seen it since. I missed my guitar; it was a gift from a possibly dead friend, on truly bad days… it was about the only way I could express myself.

"What are you sayin'? You think I'm ugly or something?" I savoured moments like this. You see my sis and I had one of those connections that only close family or friends could understand; for instance, when one gorgeous (if I do say so myself) individual feigns hurt feelings when actually that couldn't be further from the truth. She knew I was joking if her smile was anything to go by, and it was that she could tell, that made me grin. Even with the whole world gone looney tunes, I could still be goofy with my big sister.  
Crap! Now it's a hallmark moment.

Still, it felt good to laugh. Real shame the fun was cut short by my growling stomach.

"Feeling hungry Bec?" Understatement of the century right there. Can't believe I forgot I missed dinner and… breakfast?

"Shel, what time is it?" It was a legit question, I was zonked out long after everyone in the women's quarters had gone to bed and now there was nobody else here.

"The others got put to work a few hours ago. Carver said you've earned a sleep in; he was pretty impressed with your work on the loading bay, the man was singing your praises all morning," Now that I had not expected. Last time I'd heard Carver compliment… well anything, it was that woman Rebecca for whatever reason. "Better slow down Bec, you're going to make the rest of us girls look bad." And again with the hair ruffling, why did she and Russel always do that? One of these days I'll have to ask why.

Shel laughed off the irate expression I was firing her way and handed me a few things from her coat pocket. Two granola bars, half a bread roll and… are you ready for this? Chocolate! Honest to God, chocolate. If I wasn't so tough, I'd probably cry.

"Oh my God Shel, where did you get this?" A whole friggin' bar, after all this time I never thought I'd ever see chocolate again. Alright I'll admit, maybe I did shed a stray tear, one, and I caught it before it dropped so it didn't count.

"I swiped it while my group was out scavenging this morning. Granted we had to leave in a hurry; that moron Greg kicked the dirt off his shoes against this burnt out Volvo, and surprise, the alarm was the one thing that still worked. But hey, all those Lurkers made for a great distraction. Just don't tell anyone," To think she used to get mad when I took, what she considered, 'risks'. Heck way I see it, if it gets us stuff like this, she's got my support.

"And don't let anyone catch you eating it, alright? Otherwise we'll both be in trouble."

"Yeah, I might have to share."

I wolfed down the roll like Garfield on lasagne. The bars and chocolate I stuffed into my pockets for later; good thing too, cause not two seconds later, Tavia heaved her fat carcass through the door. Was that too cruel? Good! One day almost a year ago, the cow came to my group with promises that made Howe's sound like Willy Wonka's factory and us as the big golden ticket winners. But surprise, surprise; her great glass elevator didn't lead us to a paradise of pure imagination, but rather a metaphorical boat ride down a tunnel of madness, with no earthly way of knowing which direction we were going.

Apologies for the metaphors, as you've probably guessed I've got chocolate on the brain.

"Shel, breaks over. Get back to Vince and the wall." And as you can imagine, she turned her enormous maw to me.

"If you're done lazing around kid, the boss has a special job for you." I tried not to look shaken as I mentally shuffled through the insurmountable possibilities of what this job might entail. Perhaps dead Lurker pickup? Scrubbing the men's bathroom or hell maybe Carver will have me strung up in the warehouse like a scarecrow as a warning to others. With Ol' Crazy Beard you never quite knew what he was going to do. The guy was spontaneous, and not in a good way.

"Now just wait a minute; Carver promised me the day we got here that my sister would work with me and only me." As per usual in came big sis to the rescue.

"Well now we have all this extra man-power available, the boss thought this one's time would be better suited elsewhere." Tavia never called me by my name or Sarah now that I think about it. I guess she must've had something against young people? That or she was just awful with names.

"She's staying with me!"  
"She'll do as she's told!"  
"Not without me!"  
"Don't make me bring Carver in on this!" Okay before I continue there's one thing you should know. My sister and I share many things in common; tastes in food, favourite movies, we love to jog and here's the kicker… We don't just get angry, we explode.

"Well then; Fuck you and Carver!"

Whatever back and forth my sister and the queen of sea-cows had going was stopped dead. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard my sister swear. And about Carver no less! Nobody talked about Carver like that. Last guy to pull a stunt like that was Luke, and the next day he and his group had ran off. Needless to say, Tavia looked pissed. Like she was ready to point her rifle and gun us down.  
Fortunately Tavia was ever the obedient lap dog and while she may be a good contender for a Disney villain lookalike contest (I'd say Ursula myself), she still held some bizarre misplaced loyalty for the bearded loon.

"Shel, let me tell you how this right here, is gonna go… your sister is gonna come with me and do the job she's been given while you get back to work on the wall. And should you or she decide that following orders goes against what 'you' want; the two of you may just find yourselves stripped, beaten and tossed in the men's quarters, and maybe we'll see just how friendly your workmates are after years without a woman's touch."

Speechless, we were speechless. My knees were trembling; my headache was coming back with a vengeance and I'm sure my heartbeat could be heard through my clothes. But Shel, she was set to explode all over again. In all my years I've never seen my sister so angry; her face was turning red, hell she look ready to gouge Tavia's eyes out on the spot. Out the corner of my eye I noticed Tavia tighten her grip on her gun, clearly I wasn't the only one who noticed my sisters sudden change in skin tone. Try as I might I couldn't stop shaking, just the thought, the very idea that she might go through with that kind of threat terrified me. And she'd said the whole thing with a straight face.

'Could she get away with something like that?' It was a pointless thought; if Carver could get away with beating a man to death (I heard from Stan what Carver did to Alvin); of course he could get away with doing 'that' to us. What could we do? Call the police? And if we ran, where would we go? If we could even escape to begin with.

If Tavia came to him with the idea, would he go through with it? From what I'd heard, Carver had a soft spot for kids; But then again I was fourteen, would he even consider me one?

"Becca," Shel turned to me, placing both hands on my shoulders. In support of me or secretly for her I wasn't sure. The red in her face lay dormant under the surface.

"Hon, just go with her for now alright. I'm gonna go straighten this out with Carver, then I'll come get you myself." I really didn't wanna go with Tavia. If someone threatened you in that way, would you be so willing to oblige.

"But Shel, I…"

"Will be just fine Bec, I promise." Shel marched up to Tavia, whose grip on her gun had tightened to the point where I swear I could see that thing beginning to bend. Or maybe that's how I choose to remember it. Shel muttered something in Tavia's ear that I couldn't quite make out, but whatever it seemed to have done the job; Tavia actually went wide eyed for a minute. I offered Shel the most genuine smile I could and waved her off, though this had the opposite effect to what I'd intended. My big sis looked crestfallen. Like she'd watched a puppy get kicked; or eaten as experience has shown.  
(Don't think about it; trust me, Shel saw that happen once at our old camp and it messed her up. For about five minutes until a bandit tried to rob us. What a world, am I right?)

Tavia cursed my sister's name as she was almost out of ear shot. Hopefully to deal with crazy beard, though I wasn't holding my breath, it was Carver after all; the man wasn't known for his agreeable side, if he even had one.

"Come on brat! We're going to the roof!"

'Oh crappy days, the witch is gonna hurl me off the roof.' Or at least that's what I thought. The walk to the roof was a quick one; on our way there through the shelves and groups of preoccupied workers I spotted Shel marching toward Troy as if she was Agamemnon leading the Trojan horse. And Eddie says you never learn anything in school.

The stairwell near the back of the former-store was in desperate need of a clean. The steps were caked in patches of dirt from the greenhouse. Growing and organising the plants was a dirty job, no matter what some might say, and the dirt got everywhere. I could only hope Carver wouldn't ask me to sweep this area as well. It wouldn't have been as monumental a job as the warehouse, but hell I was fourteen. What teenager actually wants to work? What 'person' for that matter?

We reached the roof in little time. The rooftop was littered with discarded soil sacks, plastic bags and decorated with multiple muddy boot prints of varying sizes… 'Yuck'.

Instead of the much anticipated hammer throwing of myself into the waiting clutches of the undead, Tavia forced me through the hastily built greenhouse door; My foot caught on the entry step as I was shoved inside, and as you can imagine, I tripped. Fortunately a misplaced sack of potting soil was there to break my fall. Smooth.

"Alright Kid, Carver wants this place swept in time for the new meat. Once Reggie's here he'll give you your next assignment. Any questions?" I dusted myself off and shook my head.

'Any questions?' Yeah I could come up with a few. 'Where's Carver?', 'Why am I sweeping a Greenhouse? A place where we keep large bags of dirt.' and what would have been my first choice, 'When's my sister gonna get me outta this?'. But of course I knew better than to answer her; When someone at Howe's asks if there's any questions, they really mean 'Shut up and get to work!'.

"Good, you're learning. In that case, get to work and be quick about it, Reggie'll be here soon." With that throaty bark, the… female dog… left the way she came. Shel taught me never to use the B-word, said it was made to keep girls like us down, whatever that means. After all, its the end of the world, or so Carver would have us believe; did words hold the same meaning they used to?

'Huh, look at me getting all... existential, that's the word right?'

The sweeping of dirt and compost across a wooden floor is much weightier a task then most would suspect. Seriously, it gets caught in the cracks leaving ugly dark line patterns across the floor. The worn broom never picked up everything on the first go, so several trips back and forth across the greenhouse was a must. And when I was finally done, I had to dump the waste on the compost heap below, near the back wall; makes sense that we'd keep it outside with the lurkers, but we often wondered what the inside of the wall must look like, all that rotting plant mess piled against the wall couldn't be good for whatever or whoever's on the other side.

On my second trip to the compost wall I noticed another of the Howe's Prison Pen residents, Jane, silently working away at the crane we used to use to bring soil up to the roof, before Reggie over loaded the thing and the pulley broke a few months back.

Jane was… moody. I mean who wouldn't be after getting dragged off the road and tossed in a makeshift jail, but the woman looked like she'd seen things. She half resembled a mix of Buffy and The Road Warrior. I really miss TV.

My pained trudge back to the greenhouse was interrupted by the sounds of a commotion near the east wall, the one above the prison pen. Whatever was happening down there, it was enough to get Carver to yell, which was cause enough for everyone to keep their heads down.  
Now normally a hopping mad Carver is a sign that everyone had better be working or there'll be hell to pay. But whatever was happening, it'd caught Jane's attention. The woman had all but stopped everything she was doing. For about half a minute I internally debated whether or not I should sneak a peak over the side, knowing exactly what Carver might do if he should look up and spot me. I'd already listed off quite a few possibilities a short while ago. Yet in the end my own curiosity won out; Steadily I peered over the edge at the nervous cluster of bodies below.

"… A good hard smack. Otherwise, Troy here will do it for ya..." It was Carver, talking to Carlos. Everyone around them looked weary, heads turning slightly every now and then toward Sarah.

'Ohhhh, what did Sarah do? This ought to be good.' I thought. It wasn't a nice thought in retrospect, but at the time I didn't care. This was Carlos and Sarah, when the going gets rough they get going, straight in the opposite direction.

Troy and Carver rambled something back and forth between them when for some unexplained reason, the hat girl spoke up. Not terribly smart when speaking to Carver and his lackeys but I found her courage or naiveté endearing. As well as another strange feeling, deep in my gut, was it pity? Fear? Or something else.

"Its my fault..." She said, or rather tried to before Troy cussed her out. I didn't know this girl, but that right there, that was ballsy. I've always hated speaking in front of crowds, but worst case scenario, one of them was holding pepper spray or one of those large leather bound bibles that even Hercules couldn't lift. Carver and his goons had guns, freaking assault rifles! And she spoke up like it was nothing. Even a few of the adults in the group seemed impressed. And once again there was that feeling. Like butterflies, but something less sissy, like bats, lets go with bats.

I guess I must have spent a moment too long just staring at this 'Clementine' girl, because that very instant my ears caught a deafening slap, followed by dead silence. The kind of silence you could cut with a scalpel, but no one wanted to be the one to do it. Sarah was on the floor and sobbing whilst Carlos lorded over her, staring back and forth between her and his own hand, like it had momentarily taken on a life of its own. Now that was the definition of 'harsh'.

"… Let her sit there and think about what she's done. Troy, get Carlos to his post. Everyone else should have their assignments. Its time to get to work." Wow, dick move Carver. Forcing everyone to watch that, then expect everyone to work peacefully. Pretty much Carver's philosophy in a nut shell, _"Do as I say or I'll hurt you!"_ What a douche!

To my right a heard a muffled swear followed by the sight of several soil bags plummeting to the ground. I guess Jane wasn't able to fix it as quickly as she'd promised Carver, that would not bode well for her later. She shot a glance of irritation my way, before grumbling to herself about, and I quote… _'Stupid things'_ before marching off for, I don't know, more tools I assume. Although at this point I'd say fixing the crane was a lost cause.

Jane's fumble did not go unnoticed on the ground either. As my eyes peered down, they found a curious pair of peepers staring up directly into mine. Clementine was looking right at me. Why this freaked me out so much, at the time anyway, I didn't know. A moment of so passed before I decided that this scene had transformed into something way too awkward, and so in an instant of throwing caution to the wind… I waved.

And she waved back.

And again came the bats.

So naturally, Tavia had to come along and ruin the moment. Dragging Clementine off to who knows where. And as for me, I knew better than to dawdle. Who knew when Carver might be back.

 **Xxx**

It took some doing and allot of swearing, but I finally got the work done and dusted. Good thing too as not three seconds later, Reggie popped his unfunny head through the rooftop entrance.

"Well I see my newest helpers are ready to work." Reggie's ability to point out what's right in front of his face was second to none at Howe's.

"My my, this place looks much better, now I can truly appreciate the floor. Very nice Becca." Reggie seemed pleased so that was something I guess. Unfortunately whilst he inspected the greenhouse, the burning red, teary eyed face of Sarah appeared from the stairwell. On closer inspection, yeah, her dad had messed her face up, to put it mildly. She was gonna be sore for a while. I thought about saying something, but considering she blanked me as she walked past, I decided to let her stew. If she wasn't gonna make an effort than why should I?!

"Just doing what I'm told." I shrugged off Reggie's over eager praise, I wasn't in the mood. Not that he noticed.

"Good, that's a good way to do things. If we all do as we're told, we'll all be allot better off around here." Part of me still feels bad for Reggie, even to this day. Ever since he lost his arm, he seemed… lesser, I guess. Like an old lion in the zoo or a cobra without its teeth. The fight had been drained out of him. A sentiment that many of my group shared whenever Carver wasn't around was thus… _'Is this what Carver would have us become?'_ , hopeless puppets dancing to Carver's sick tune, pulling our strings if he thought we were out of line. I guess whether you're inside the pen or out, everyone's a prisoner at Howe's.

Sarah dragged herself over to a corner and cradled herself next to it on the floor. Her breath caught between quiet sobs that heightened the already uncomfortable atmosphere. Me and Reggie shared an awkward glance that confirmed the obvious, neither of us wanted to deal with this.

"Uhhh, listen girls, we have allot of work to do here. And the other girl, Clementine I think her name was, she isn't here yet. So I'm going to go fetch her and while I'm gone why don't you two… chat for a while. Just don't touch anything." And like Winnie the Pooh at a honey tasting convention, he was gone. In the most ham-handed way possible, didn't even try to hide that it was uncomfortable just standing here with a crying girl in the room. So he left her with me instead. What an ass!

Though it was probably only a few minutes, I could feel the seconds crawling by, one after another. It just wouldn't end. So I thought why not, lets chat. After all, it was Reggie's idea.

"So Sarah… How's the face treating ya?" Okay admittedly I could have chosen something better to start with, but hey, I've never had to talk to a crying anyone before.

Sarah looked up at me if only for a moment before returning her head to her knees. It probably didn't help that I was leaning up against the nearest berry tree table like a dealer in an alley, but what can I say? This was me actually trying.

"Okay, I'm gonna say… bad. Probably bad. Alright forget that, how about this. If you could have one thing in the world, right now, what would it be?" Again, no response. Sarah was really trying my patience. There's was only so much cringe-inducing silence I could take.

"You know what I'd choose?" Nothing but silence. "My guitar, I've loved that thing for quite some time. A friend gave it to me at my old camp, even taught me how to play… till we came here and Carver took it." I ended that little story on a sour note, it still burns me up inside that Carver has my favourite thing in the world, besides Shel, locked up in his office. Said it was too much of a distraction for everyone. The selfish hairy scab bag!

She still wouldn't answer me, and as if to add insult to injury she turned her head away from me. 'Yeesh, I actually try with her and this is what I get?' After that point I would have just ignored her, if she hadn't said what she said next.

"I can't talk to you. You're a bad person."

As my favourite cartoon character once said, _"Urge to kill, rising!"_  
Sarah was walking a knifes edge with me right now. On one side there was an apology and a small session of begging for forgiveness and on the other there was sticking to her guns followed by a swift and well deserved punch in the nose.

Fortunately for Sarah and her nose, Reggie strolled through the door followed closely by Tavia and… Clementine. I had to admit she was a little shorter in person, the top of her head coming up just over my shoulder. Plus with all the blood splatters on her hat she had this sweet/ secretly deadly look about her. 'Like a bat, cute to look at but deadly if you piss her off.'

Oh did I mention I like bats yet? I did? Well I'm gonna do it again anyway. Also…

'Did I just think she was cute?' Yes, but I didn't understand that at the time.

What I did understand though, was her jacket. You see I have this yellow jacket safely tucked away under the pillow of my makeshift bed. I love my jacket, its warm, its got lots of pockets and its the last thing my dad gave to me before he came home that night and… well I'd rather not think about that right now. Anyway, I loved it, and it crushed me that Carver made me swap it out for the swamp green coat I was wearing now. Apparently it better represents the color scheme his organisations going for or some other stupid reason. But when I saw her in this shiny new coat with this awesome rainbow stripe across the middle, I'm not gonna lie, I got a little jealous. Maybe a little too much because without thinking, I blurted out…

"That's an awesome jacket."

My face was red. For one I'd shattered the silence in the room and two now all eyes were on me. Even Sarah's surprisingly. I would have thrown a hand over my big trap but it was already planted across my eyes. I hate being made a spectacle of.

Clementine half smiled at me for a moment and said, "Thanks... its new."

Okay, we'd spoken, so it was a good first step. A happy accident. Pity then that Tavia had to spoil the moment.

"Please, you would like that ugly thing. Reggie, I leave these three in you capable… hand." Ouch, that was a low blow even for her. "Don't mess this up!"

"I get it, okay." Like I said before, the fight was just gone.

"Girls, Reggie's in charge here, okay? Listen to him carefully."

"Yep. No problem, Tavia." She left then and there, probably to give Carver's boots the once over.

"Okay girls, we've gotta do a good job. The camp is counting on us. But with the extra help," I just love being referred to as, 'extra help'. "I think we can do it. Come on, I'll show you what to do. Its super easy."

And so Reggie pretty much gave us the run down on how to properly prune the berry trees. I'd done this before with Shel but I guess his being on thin ice with Carver was making him antsier than usual.

Then he patted Clementine on the head. If I was a different kind of girl, I'd say that was adorable. But I'm not, so I won't.

Anyway, he set me up at one table and Clementine and Sarah at the other. Clementine was actually doing a pretty good job, except she had to keep stopping to help Sarah who continually made mistakes. Half the branches she cut were still good, and they had fruit on them! How could she be this dense? If Carver got mad, we were all screwed.

"… Hey…" I heard a whisper out the corner of my ear and turned. Clementine was looking over from her table, next to her was a good sized pile of branches and berries. For someone bogged down with helping Sarah, she sure did adapt to the situation fast. Pretty impressive all things considered.  
Looking around the corner, Reggie was still hard at work pulling corn stalks out of the dirt. Not bad for a one armed guy.

"Uh, hey. Clementine, right?" Well how would you start a conversation?

"Yeah… how'd you know that?" Great, she was uneasy again. Is it me? Do I just give off this, difficult to talk to vibe?

"Oh, I heard it in passing yesterday. It's not everyday you see another person our age, especially round here." She nodded at that.

"I guess that makes sense. Sarah and you are the first young people I've seen in… years."

Whoa, mind blown. Was the world that bad off? It was a scary thought. No people our age in that long?

And of course Sarah had to butt-in. "Really?"

"It's been a while now. The last one I saw…" Clementine had this pained expression for a moment, but it passed as quickly as it came. I'd have to pry about that later, much later. "But that's not important. So were you forced here too, umm…"

"Oh uh, Becca. The name's Becca." I held out my fist to her which she inspected oddly. "What? You never fist bumped before? Just pound it, Clementine."

Clementine cocked a half smile, which when her eyes were blocked by her hat looked downright devious, and bumped her fist against mine.

Sarah placed her sheers on the table and put her hand on Clementine's shoulder. What? Was she staking her claim or something?

"Clementine and me pinkie swore. We're best friends now." I'd call her out on whimpering in the corner and only now deciding to 'Woman-Up'. But it was easier just to frown and watch her fearfully shrink back like a turtle into its shell. And meanwhile here was Clementine, with no clue as to what was going on.

"Did you put a quarter in the swear jar after?" Sarah didn't look like she got it. But it make Clementine smile so I'd call that one a hit.

"Anyway, like I was saying Becca," Good, we're on a first name basis. And here I thought something would go wrong. But since there was no sign of Carver or Tavia, or a Lurker pole-vaulting over the wall, things are looking up. "How'd you end up here?"

"Well, I guess it started when Carver's lapdog, Tavia, found me and my group. You see we were camping out in this field about a year or so back, when Howe's was only just starting up as a safe place, back when things were actually kinda nice round here…" Me and Clem continued to work whilst we talked. Out the corner of my eye I noticed that Sarah was making mistakes, the tree she was working on would be a stick in a pot before too long.

But I didn't care, I was having a good long talk with someone my own age for a change. And you know what? It was nice.

It was a good talk. I told her about my guitar, the people in my group, everything until we got to the attempted escape.

"So I wake up the next day right, and would you believe it, over a dozen people from the camp just vanished overnight."

"I'll bet Carver was mad."

"Like you wouldn't believe, Clem. Trust me, its like watching an elephant charge right at ya. You wanna get out of the way, but you're just frozen on the spot, watching everything happen." Clem seemed to like my stories, and Reggie was none the wiser thanks to his need to succeed. It was all going well, until Sarah had to stick her nose in, again.

"After they escaped, they dragged each of us into Carver's office one at a time. He'd say things like, _'If you tell us who did it we'll go easy on you.'_ or _'We're on your side here, just tell us where they went and you can go.'_ Then after three days of not hearing what he wanted, Carver got violent." Sarah stopped her work, again, and turned to the two of us.

"T-that's not true. Dad, my dad said none of our friends would get hurt if we left. He told me so." Poor naive Sarah, you think the sun rises and sets over your dad's moustache. Clementine glanced over at Reggie who'd stopped of a moment but swiftly resumed his work when he heard silence.

"Sarah, you have to keep quiet or we'll get in trouble." Good, at least Clem knows the score.

"You should listen to her Sarah, your dad doesn't know every little thing like you think he does. Him and your group got the rest of us here beaten! Some worse than others. If Reggie hadn't caved and told them everything, there'd be a lot less of us here right now." Sarah frowned and dropped her sheers to the floor. It sounds more dramatic than you think, really I would have taken her more seriously if she wasn't mewling like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"Stop it! You don't know what your talking about. Your a bad person, just like Carver!"

"You're comparing me to Carver!" From that point on the kiddie gloves were off.

"Girls, what's going on back there?" Reggie tried to turn back, back he had his one arm, elbow deep in the soil, pulling at what I assume was a stubborn root.

"It's okay, I'll deal with it." Clementine assured Reggie as she tried to force her way between us. "You both need to stop, or you're gonna get us in trouble."

"She's lying Clem, my dad told me she's a bad person, just like everyone else here. That's why we had to leave, my dad wouldn't lie to me." Sarah stomped her foot down hard, causing a berry pot to fall and shatter, spilling dirt and discarded leaves on the greenhouse floor.

"Did something break? Please tell me nothings broken!" Again came Reggie's troubled calls, but me and Sarah were too into it to care.

"One minute, Reggie." Clementine again.

I think what stuck with me most in that moment was how it actually look like Clem was siding with Sarah, until she said everyone here was bad. At that point you could see Clementine's shoulders drop as she uttered a sigh.  
'Looks like this isn't the first time Sarah's reacted this way in front of her.'

"Clem, you seem cool. But your friend here is gonna get, you, me and Reggie in seven kinds of hell if she doesn't Woman-Up and face facts. Sarah, your dad's keeping you in the dark."

"That's not true! Tell her Clem; tell her my dad's not lying to me!" Sarah was almost begging at this point grabbing Clementine by her shoulders and trying desperately to meet her gaze. Something Clementine couldn't return.

"Clem?"

Again Clementine sighed and turned to Sarah. This ought to be good.

"Sarah; your dad loves you, a lot. But sometimes when we get scared, we say and do things, anything to protect the people we care about. Even if it means…" But Sarah wouldn't hear another word; she backed up against the wall and fell back into her fetal position.

"No! No, stop talking about my dad, please!" Clementine was at her wits end from the looks of things. Sarah had already made a mess of her task and now the floor.

"You're gonna get the three of us stripped and beaten if you don't stop blubbering." That part caught Clementine off guard.

"Wait, what are you talking about?!"

"Alright girls, I'm coming back there." And now Reggie, perfect.

"Tavia told my sister that Carver could have us stripped, beaten and worse if we don't follow his rules."

"Well then… then we need to get out of here." Poor Clementine, she had no idea. Once you're in Howe's, you never get out. Not anymore.

"And what then? Take out every guard? Gather up all your friends and mine, then make a run for it and hope the guards don't snipe us from the roof? Clem, let's face facts. Your friend here's gonna drag you down, with her kicking and screaming, and all because of her stupid dad."

"Girls! Girls, what happened here? Why are these pots broken? And what happened to these trees?" And now Reggie was freaking out, fantastic. Also 'pots'? Just how many had Sarah knocked over?

"Everyone please, just calm down. We can..." Clementine didn't even get a chance to finish.

"At least my dad is here!"

The next part when by in sort of a haze, Sarah had stood up and said something so monumentally brainless, so utterly obtuse, that it defied all rhyme and reason. And she'd said that something, to me.

Next thing I knew, Clementine was latched onto my right arm screaming at me to stop as I pinned Sarah to the wall with my left. I couldn't tell if I had tears in my eyes of if Sarah's had splashed onto me when I grabbed her. Either way, I was beyond reason. Sarah pulled the cardinal sin. Never say anything about my parents.

Thankfully for her sake, and later unfortunately. The greenhouse door flew open with a mighty swing, revealing the bearded psycho on the other side. And believe me, at that moment, he truly lived up to his nickname. He first stared at the three of us, me holding Sarah up by her shirt and Clem latched on to my arm, then to Reggie who wore this panicked, beaten expression, and then to the mess we'd made of the plants and floor. His reaction was exactly what you'd expect.

" **YOU THREE! IN MY OFFICE NOW!"**

That moment had to be the single most frightening moment of my entire life. I'd never moved so fast before, not when Lurkers first chased us, not when my first group had been robbed and not even when dad had… no, not the right time.

It was a race between the three of us to see who could get the his office first, as if getting there last would result in some unforeseen worse punishment. Which for all we knew could happen.

We floored it down the stairwell, our footsteps grinding to a halt as our ears rang with the cries of a wounded man… being thrown to his death from the roof.

 **A/N: Okay so, first and foremost my apologies for not updating sooner, I just moved jobs so its been an arduous few months getting used to thinks in the new place. Secondly I've been binge watching 'Adventure Time' and I kinda got distracted a couple dozen times. Not as good an excuse I know, but hey, gotta be honest. Read and Review.**


	3. The Howe's and Whys

**The Howe's and Whys**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to 'The Walking Dead Game'; it is strictly the property of TellTale Games. Please support the official release.**

 **xxx**

How best to describe the air within Carver's office after… well you know what happened.

Thin.

I guess thin would be the word to use. All three of us found it hard to breath, between our mad dash to get there and our panicked expectations of what might happen, we were more than a little light-headed. As we'd ran through the shelving and storage sections, my eyes darted this way and that, looking for any sign of my sister, or Russel or Vince. But they were nowhere to be seen; in fact, the only faces I recognised were ones I'd spotted in passing and hadn't really bothered to learn their names.

With some generous rounding, I'd say the number of people housed within Howe's walls would be a little under sixty.

Not many in the grand scheme of things. I mean the world had what? Billions of people before? And after a few years we'd been reduced to… I don't know the percentage; I was never good at math. Always preferred history and music over mathematics and art, when would I ever need those? Unless I wanted to paint-by-numbers.

The office itself was a mess, a dirty carpet that looked like it'd seen its fair share of blood, coffee, and other assorted fluids, if the stains were anything to go by. The solid wooden desk had lots of little tiny holes dotted across it, which if I remember correctly meant the thing was infested with woodworm. A series of gun-metal grey gadgets equipped with a microphone sat before the observation window as well as a single walkie-talkie sitting idle on its charger. And finally, a raggedy, blood soaked chair sat empty in the corner. What that meant and who used to be in it, I don't know. Stan said Alvin had been dragged up here, but where was he now? Did he die? I mean I didn't like the guy, but that doesn't mean I wanted anything bad to happen to him.  
Well, hopefully he was dragged out instead of getting up and… well, it's probably better not to think about a Lurker with Alvin's size skulking around Howe's.

Sarah nervously fidgeted with her hands; she trembled like a cat in a snowdrift, rubbing her hands over one another in some sort of desperate calming technique that clearly wasn't working. Well, good! It was her fault we were in here in the first place. If she'd just kept her big mouth shut, this never would have happened. But no! She just had mouth off, about me, about my dad, and of course about her sweet daddy dearest! Oh yes, if I had a snickers bar for every time she'd used the word 'dad', I'd be set for life… or weigh a thousand pounds, depends on the mood I'm in.

Clementine seemed, lesser, I suppose would be the appropriate term. She looked like she was weighing her options, her gaze set solely on the tips of her shoes. Every so often, she'd turn her attention to either Sarah or myself. It didn't matter which, her expression was the same, she was pissed, and I couldn't look her in the eye. Maybe I'm too proud, or maybe I was still fuming over Sarah, either way, I couldn't, no, wouldn't admit I was to blame… well, partly anyway.

Now Carver was on the war path, he hates when things go awry, and the three of us were lined up on her proverbial firing range, just waiting to be picked off by his smoking gun. For the time being though, it seemed like he was letting us stew, like a naughty child sent to their room whilst their parents discuss what their punishment should be. Simple, but effective.

Our parents, Shel and I, never hit us. Oh, they'd yell, like the time when I was four and I stuffed a waffle into their old VCR because I thought it was a weird toaster. Or when Shel got two weeks' detention for beating up my school bully. Max Fuller never so much as looked at me funny after that, he was too scared of what Shel might do.

I don't think I ever thanked her for that.

And now… who'll save me from this?

I let out an involuntary sigh, I couldn't help it, just thinking about my sister out there in the warehouse, how she'll react when either Troy or Tavia or even Carver tells her about what happened. Would she be angry? Or Disappointed? And what would she do? What could or would they make her do? Unknowingly, I wrapped my arms around my waist, though it did little to ease the twists and knots inside, leaving me light-headed and out of breath. Breath in… and out… and in… and out. It was like that over and over again in my head, I just kept repeating it to myself.

Sarah wasn't fairing much better; her right leg was tapping sporadically against the floor like a nervous cartoon rabbit. While I couldn't see much, being the furthest from her, I could still make out the beginnings of her dad's serious handiwork across her cheek. No doubt that would leave a bruise.

But then there was Clementine… if she was afraid then she hid it well, she wasn't trembling, she wasn't heaving, in fact it looked as though she was mentally readying herself. It was not the best time, but I had to know.

"Uh, Clementine?"

Clementine glared at me instantly with a burning anger behind it that could melt stone.

"I don't think now is the best time… Becca." She pretty much spat out my name like it was a dirty word. I would've gotten angry, but something about her unwavering stare gave me second thoughts. If looks could kill, I'd be dead.

Just then, Sarah decided to chime in.

"Told you she was bad." Sarah spoke in almost a whisper. I made to argue back but Clementine beat me to it.

"Well you didn't help things, Sarah! Why did you knock over those plants?" Good question.

"Clementine… I-I didn't mean to." She stuttered, but Clementine wouldn't let her worm her way out of this.

"Sarah, those plants had berries on them, you know, for food!"

"It was an accident; I swear…"

Clementine took off her hat and ran her hands through her hair, being careful as to avoid untangling her pigtails. The glimpses I caught of her reddened scalp between her parted hair spoke volumes of just the sort of life she'd led before arriving here, clearly this wasn't the first time she'd done this… not that I could fault her, stress has a way of sneaking up on you, sometimes it's that invisible enemy that you didn't know was there, until it's too late.

"Well let's just hope Carver sees it that way."

He wouldn't though… adults, kids, the old and the young were nothing but words, when you get right down to it, we're all one people under Carver's watch. Carver's People. Real Equality in my lifetime, for the first time ever really, under the heel of a psychopath who doesn't realise what a perfect society he could have had. But alas, power corrupts, and it's those of us beneath the corrupt that must deal with the consequences.

We sat in silence for another five minutes, although inside the dimly lit confines of Carvers office, every second dragged on for what felt like an eternity. In that time, I was left to stew. What right did Clementine have to shout at me? It was Sarah's fault! And as per usual, I'm the one who has to suffer.

It wasn't just that Sarah had a nasty habit of making mistakes, thanks in no small part to interference from her 'stuck-in-his-ways' dad, but as the older of the two of us kids at the time, any mistake on her part was considered a reflection on me. Like my being around her age somehow made my accomplishments hers, and her failures mine.

"I hate this place."

Clementine and I both turned to Sarah as she muttered into her hands.

"What now?" I wasn't in the mood for Sarah's nonsense but Carver's return was well past due, and we weren't about to look scared and weak because of one girl who couldn't get with the times.

"I said I hate this place! I wish we'd never come back here!" She spoke with an increase in volume, fortunately Clementine was there to shush her before we had a repeat of the greenhouse.

"Well that makes two of us, Sarah. Before you left things were going well around here, and then you left… but at least Carver wasn't around as much." I turned away, I couldn't look at her, every time I'd seen her since yesterday only fuel my hate. She wore that same lost puppy expression, she really didn't understand how her group was in any way at fault. "And now he's back, looking to set an example to anyone who'd try a stunt like yours again."

Clementine stayed silent. I was thankful for that at least, the last thing I wanted was to be chewed out by the new girl, who from what I could tell was at least two years younger than me.

"Well it's not like it's going to matter anyway." Sarah chimed in.

"Oh yeah, and why's that?"

"Because it wasn't our fault! I mean, not really…" Oh, again with this crap. "Isn't that right, Clem?"

Clementine stared at Sarah, from my seat I couldn't see her face, just that her fidgeting hands now joined the rest of her person, unmoving, like some sort of store mannequin.

"Sarah, what are you trying to say?"

Sarah smiled wearily; given our current situation, it was more than a little unnerving.

"Don't you see Clem? We'll just explain to Mr. Carver about what, She, did. Then he'll let us go."

That little, filthy, sneaking, backstabbing… God, there aren't enough words!

"Oh, you'd better not be suggesting what I think you are!" I looked to Clementine for support, but to my surprise, she'd risen to her feet before I could.

"What?! Sarah, that's…"

"Perfect, right? I mean it's the two of us against just her. He'll have to believe us."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, Sarah, the quiet bookworm who routinely made mistakes that somehow messed me up, was going to throw me under the bus.

"You wouldn't dare!" I stood and faced Sarah, the only thing keeping me from choking the brat was Clementine blocking me with her bod.

"It's not like we're lying, you started the fight." Sarah stood, so I guess we'd all gone from sitting to standing, like an emotional game of musical chairs.

Clementine, for the most part, remained neutral. She wasn't with me… but she wasn't against me either.

"After you insulted my dad and knocked over those stupid plants!"

"Well you, insulted my dad!" Before today I hadn't realised just how much fire Sarah had in the belly. Typical that she picks the worst possible times to let it out.

"Clementine, come on. This isn't all on me and you know it." I did the only thing I could do, I had to plead with the person who'd hold the most sway with Carver. Sarah and I were known too well, but Clementine was a third party. If I had her on my side, someone she'd only just met, Carver would have to believe me.

"It was too! Please Clem, let's just tell Carver the truth and go back to my dad and the others." Sarah cupped her hands around Clementine's, how cheesy can you get?!"

"You mean 'your truth', Sarah! Clementine, come on, you can't do this. Why lie for her?" I tried pleading my case, but Clementine wasn't responding to either of us. And yet, as we argued, I could see my chances of escaping this unscathed, falling like a shit from on heaven. Burning up on re-entry and striking some poor geography teacher on his way to work. Levity, thy name is Becca.

"It's not lying, not really! Besides, we're best friends! Not you."

And that's what it ultimately comes down to… a stupid schoolyard fight. An 'I said so, so there!' argument where common sense and basic right and wrong are tossed to the wayside in favour of the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few.

Sarah had Clementine on her side, which was one more than I had.

We both looked to Clementine; why she'd opted to remain silent up until now was anyone's guess. Conflicted, would be the appropriate wording to describe Clem's person. Torn, would be another.

"I think…"

And then the door flew open.

 **XXX**

As I told Clementine, before Sarah had her hissy fit, Howe's wasn't always like this.

Believe it or not, things around Howe's used to be good. Not great, obviously, but better than they are.

We had walls, thick and strong with new expansions being built every day. Our supplies were plentiful and for the most part everyone got along. I say for the most part, up in the observation room, formerly the manager's office, Carver and Luke would butt head over this and that, not to mention it was pretty much common knowledge that Carver and Rebecca were more than friendly in our little community. I don't know if Alvin knew, hiding it behind his cool-aid man grin, but if he did, he hid it well. Me personally, I looked the other way at those sorts of things. Romance has never been at the forefront of my interests, plus the idea of kissing guys always sounded gross. Not that it mattered, the youngest guy at Howe's is Russel, and he's always been more of a big brother anyway.

Though I'll admit, not having anyone like me to talk to did get sort of, lonely, I guess. I don't like talking about it, but, just having someone I could talk to who didn't look down on me like I'm a little kid, it really would've helped allot. I couldn't talk about how I felt about, anything really, with any of the guys, at least not without receiving a pat on the head. And Shel, well if I tried to talk to her about anything for too long, she went from fun sister to full blown mother-mode.

I guess there are just somethings that you can only talk about with people your own age.

Just my luck then that the one girl my age, if not slightly older than me, was Sarah.

And she avoided me like the plague.

I remember one mid-summer's day in particular, the Lurkers were miniscule in numbers for whatever reason, and suffice it to say, it had put all the residents of Howe's into an optimistic state of mind. People were happy and did their assignments with a grin, as far as they were concerned, the world was on the up and up. How great it would have been if we might've stayed that way. Unfortunately, as with everything else, such a way of thinking rarely lasts.

I was stacking cans in a dimly lit corner of the warehouse, from up above, Carver and Luke's bickering could be heard if one were to strain their ears.

Troy dragged his lurker'esq body passed me as he yawned, apparently, the concept of an early morning start was a new one on him. He stopped to stare at me for a moment, which I returned with gusto, before he craned his head upward toward whatever I was listening to.

"Girly, that up there don't concern you. Now get back to work."

"You get back to work." Back then, mouthing off to Troy wasn't met with an immediate crack across the face. Oh, he'd swear allot, but that was as far as his supposed authority stretched.

"You better watch your fuckin' mouth you little brat!" I shot him a sarcastic smirk and turned back to my shelves.

"Or what, you'll tell Carver? Sure, and while we're at it, maybe I'll tell him how you were late for your shift." Troy looked up at the large clock on the wall, it was getting into the midmorning awing of things and by all accounts he should have been on patrol over two hours ago, "And I'll bet he'd love to know that one of his security guys is walking around here unarmed and without a radio." Sure enough, Troy actually had to check to see if he didn't have something he knew he didn't have, how he got to become Carver's head security guy later on is beyond anyone's understanding.

"Uhh, sonofabitch… just get back to work kid." Nothing else needed to be said, Troy got taken down a peg but he didn't have the wherewithal to knock anyone else down to his level. So, there was nothing to stop me and a few friends from laughing at his expense.

Wyatt and Eddie, the clown princes of Howe's Hardware. These guys could fall into a snake pit and climb out with a weeks' worth of joke material, and two pairs of snake skin boots. They were fun, as much as they tapped danced on Carver's irritable side, Luke balanced them out. They were capable, and allot of the laughs in this place came from the two of them.

The dynamic duo emerged from a shelving wrack of gardening supplies, immediately we were laughing, Troy wasn't one to get flustered, but when he did it was a sight to behold.

"Rocking the cradle early, Padawan Becca is." Eddie was a reference spouting, topical humour machine, even if some of his jokes flew over my head now and then.

"The force is strong with this one, last time Troy got that twisted he slipped in Lurker guts." Wyatt on the other hand, appreciated dry humour and knew when to use sarcasm at just the right time.

Put them together and you've got either a winning combination or a recipe for disaster. Either way, our days are a little brighter because of them.

"Yeah, I remember you started laughing and he was so mad he chased you around the yard." I'd been watching from the side-lines at the time, but it was a slight to behold.

Eddie slapped Wyatt on the back as the three of us reminisced. "Oh yeah, remember, he kept on falling over. Man, you musta been shitting bricks."

"I was, that's why he was falling."

We laughed and joked as we got on with our work after that. Small pleasures and all, too bad like all good things, it had to come to an end.

Dr. Carlos, Rebecca and his kid Sarah came over and stood by us. Rebecca was teary eyed, or at least she had been, given the red rings around her eyes. She blanked us as she passed, trudging towards the door to Carver's office, like a guilty kid being sent to the principal. Carlos on the other hand, stayed behind a moment. Leaning down, he said something to his daughter, in the vein of 'wait right here' and 'take no notice of them.' Whatever that was supposed to mean.

The good doctor… didn't like me. Why? Because apparently, I didn't meet his standards. I dunno, maybe it's because on his first day here with the group, I killed a Lurker. It was only practice of course. Shel knocked it down and I finished it off. If it was dangerous, Shel would've charged me inside like The Flash. My sister was and is a worrier, no doubt about that, but Carlos, he took it to a whole 'nother level.

Carlos brought his daughter with him everywhere. In the clinic, in his corner of the men's bunks, when he did his rounds, and so on. Not to mention, Sarah was never without a book in her hands and it was never the same book twice. Between Wyatt, Eddie and I, we still don't know where they came from or where they went. Though our best guess was simply… Sarah ate them. What other explanation could there be?

The gruff doctor shot me a stern glare as he passed, apparently, he didn't see Eddie or Wyatt ducking back to their assigned positions organising gardening tools, or maybe he did but just didn't care.

As he reached the door he turned back to look at Sarah before sighing and ascending the stairs himself.

Awkward, is the word I would use to describe the air in the warehouse. If my ears were to be believed, the dynamic duo had picked up the pace with their work, a shot of adrenaline will do that to people, no matter how spontaneous they may be. Sarah had slumped down on the floor beneath a fire extinguisher, turning through page after page in her book. 'The Last Unicorn', I think I remember my sister reading that to me once. I always loved how the unicorn was the one doing most of the saving, even when her friends messed up and got caught, all part of a quest to save her kind from an evil greedy king.

Although apparently, Sarah and I wouldn't be forming a book-club anytime soon.

"Hey," I whispered, trying to get her attention. "Hey, Sarah."

Sarah look to me out the corner of her eye for a moment before hastily turning back to her book.

"Still in the whole, 'Everyone is bad unless my dad says they're not.' State of mind, huh? Well whatever."

Going back to stacking cans of unlabelled food next to large boxes of laundry detergent was wasn't exactly the best way to ease the already tense air. But since none of the guys wanted to incur the wrath of Carlos, both Wyatt and Eddie kept their opinions and their distance far from Sarah's vicinity.

From the look of it, Sarah was half way through the book, if that was the case, then maybe…

"You know how the wizard can't control his magic?" Sarah turned, having been drawn out from her ink and paper world. "Did you know the writer was actually talking about life?" Sarah turned back to her book, yet she'd glimpse over her glasses every now and then which was all I needed to continue.

"See, the wizard, he's always trying to control this all-powerful force, but something always goes wrong… and yet, when he finally realises that he can't control it, does it work. That's life for ya, you try and control it all you want, but in the end, the best you can do is admit you have no control."

Well there was no denying it now, Sarah was facing me directly, book closed.

"You can direct it sure, but in the end, there are just forces out there beyond our influence, and that's just like life, we can pretend that we control everything that happens, but life is bigger than just us… Once you accept that, you'll be a much happier person, relatively speaking of course."

Thank you, Shel's notes from Advanced English 101.

"Wow." That was the first thing I'd heard from Sarah that wasn't a crack about my 'bad' self.

Typical that her dad had to come in and ruin it.

"Sarah, back to my office." Carlos looked uneasy, his hands were shaking ever so slightly by his sides and he seemed… I don't know, more reactive I guess. Like he was on a hair trigger, as if something was about to happen. For whatever reason, Rebecca didn't come back down.

"B-but dad," Sarah tried to argue back, but buckled under the weight of her dads imposing size.

"Now Sarah, we… need to talk."

Carlos guided her away, Sarah didn't so much as look back as left. Must've been too much rule breaking for one day, huh girl? Looking and turning to someone your dad doesn't like, such a rebel. Looks like Wyatt's sarcasm is rubbing off on me, either that or I'd spent too long tediously stacking shelves.

A few days later Sarah, Carlos and a select few others packed up and vanished in the middle of the night. Why weren't they caught? Because the guards that night were Pete, Reggie, Nick and Alvin. Of the eight that attempted to escape that night, seven got away unscathed. In a turn of events that no one could have seen coming, Troy of all people caught Reggie before the group escaped in one of Howe's refurbished trucks. By the time, Troy had raised the alarm, the seven escapees were long gone.

Caver's vengeance was harsh, his retribution swift. The battle for leadership was over, in its place, the dark days of Howe's began. Troy was named head of security and abused his authority at every opportunity. Tavia became more ruthless to get on Carver's good side, and Carver… well, he was always a monster, only now it wasn't limited to behind closed doors.

And now here I am, face to face with the big man of Howe's. Side by side with someone who's ready and waiting to throw me under the bus, and another who could go either way.

 **XXX**

 **A/N: Well damn! That took way longer than I thought… One minute I'm writing, then my computer breaks, and I had to get a new one, then work and home collide, I think I crashed under the weight of it all for a while… that I sort of forgot for a few months.**

 **Well, I'm back now, and more on top of things… So please review, the more reviews I get, the more I know you want this to continue. Which is something I desperately need to get things going again. Its how I know you like it and would like to see more.**


	4. King of the Howe's

**King of the Howe's**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to 'The Walking Dead Game' or its Spinoffs.**

 **Please support the official release.**

 **XXX**

When I was little, my parents when out for the night, and naturally, with Shel being my 'Responsible' big sister, they chose her to be my babysitter.

I say 'Responsible', in that she took good care of me, but even the most dedicated of professionals made mistakes in their chosen careers.

Case in point; a long hot summer, one that feels like a lifetime ago. Back when it was safe to down a cherry slushie in your dad's white garden hammock before he got home from work. Or ride your bike to school on the sidewalk. Or use your sister's mermaid barbie as a paintbrush.

Well, okay, that last one wasn't exactly safe, per-say, at least where my sister's concerned, but to be fair... I was smaller, so hiding from her was no problem.

Anyway; it was late into the evening when mom finally called to check in on us. Now, given her career as an investment banker, naturally mom, and by association, dad, would attend functions and get-together's that would run through the night, well into the early hours of the morning. And since Shel was forbidden from inviting her friends over, especially on a school night, she was usually left with no-one to talk to. So how lucky was she to have her 'amazing' little sister there to keep her company? The answer: very.

I was only seven at the time, and Shel had me sitting in her lap the whole night like a big teddy bear, but I didn't care, staying up late with my big sis made me feel... grown up. Like I was one of the cool big kids and points to Shel, she never made me feel like I was unwanted. I'm the one in a million of kids that got invited to their bigger sibling's sleepovers.

So, what did my all-knowing big sister decide to watch on tv, with me in the room?

'The Amityville Horror'!

The name says it all. This movie about a haunted house from the seventies. Why she thought that was a good idea, I still don't know. I think the part where I ran screaming out of the room was the scene where the priest is blessing the house and quietly the door opens behind him, and then a disembodied voice screams **'Get Out!'.**

Shel tried to bribe me out of telling anyone, specifically mom and dad, but as you can imagine, nightmares every other night, of eyes at my window and dark figures in my closet are nearly impossible to explain away at my age.

Shel was grounded for a month, and my parents bed had one extra person for a while.

Now you'd think that's where it would have ended, right? I'd grow up, realize there wasn't a face at my window, or a demon hiding in my closet, end of story? Wrong! For hell hath no fury like a sister stuck indoors, and so, around the end of that same month, our parents went out for dinner for their weekly date night. Now Shel was forbidden from watching tv, so the two of us had to amuse ourselves…

Shel, in her eyes, deserved payback.

Later that night, unbeknownst to me, she invited two of her friends over to, 'teach the tattletale a lesson'.

 **XXX**

The door to Carver's Office flew open, the metal interior handle striking against an unused filing cabinet with a resonating clang. Carver's grizzled, unevenly shaven mug was bereft of any sort of emotion, whatever his mood may be, it was a mystery to us.

The three of us stood there, each of us dumbfounded like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do. We didn't dare move through fear that we might unintentionally focus his expected fury upon ourselves. Any air in the room was long since gone, all breaths were held in tight, I'd never known what true silence felt like before that moment. That stillness where your own heartbeat can be heard, where your ears are straining, desperately seeking out some alien sound that you know isn't really there. The sound that frightened children listen for beneath their covers in the dead of night, tiny hands held tight over ears waiting with wet eyes for a creeping footstep or creature's breath as it approaches in the darkness. That terrifying moment when somewhere as warm and safe as a child's bedroom, transforms into a twisted, grotesque, evil place. A black void, where all the fears and doubts of the waking world can take shape and reach out to drag us in, perhaps to share in their hatred and contempt for the very happiness that we take for granted every day.

I'm afraid of the dark, I have been ever since Shel… since something that happened back when I was seven. That same year I was diagnosed with severe 'Nyctophobia'. My parents couldn't help, hugs and kinds words can only do so much. My school-approved therapist couldn't help, the nighttime diaries they made me fill forced me to notice every little noise, smell and shape in greater detail, little things I hadn't noticed before like tiny peels of the wallpaper and chips on my closet doors took on a frightening new identity. And counting down with the lights off? Well, let's just say after one night of that little experiment, I began visiting a more experienced child psychologist.

I say all this because, nowadays, I live in a world where not only do monsters really dwell in the dark corners of the world, but they can reach out into the daylight and sink their teeth into you if you're caught unaware.

Howe's taught me that home is not a place, it's a myth. A fun story to convince every new generation that there is a place where the evils of the world cannot reach them. That four walls, a roof and a floor are all it takes to keep the big bad wolf at bay.

Well my 'home' crumbled a long time ago, and now the world in its dark, all-encompassing presence has claimed me as well as everyone who came to this place with either thoughts of safety, or whom were dragged kicking and screaming into the night.

Then and there the big bad wolf of Howe's stood before us, and we had nowhere to hide.

"Ladies, Sit!" We did as we were told, backs straight and hands in our laps as Carver closed the door behind us. As rhythmic as a soldier's march, one stomp of a size ten boot after the other, Carver paced back and forth behind us. Every now and then he'd run one of his large leathery hands over the back of our chairs as he passed.

We didn't dare turn around.

"You know, ladies…" The sound of Carver's voice broke us from our stupor, if only for a moment before we remember our place in his grand scheme and promptly straightened up. "I've been mulling over everything that transpired up in our green house, and well, something about the sequence of events, at least from how Reggie told it, just don't sit right with me."

Poor Reggie, I never liked him personally, he always came off as too eager to please. But then again, I never got to know him. Maybe he had a wild social life and the end of days just broke him. I know he enjoyed gardening, did he prefer growing food or flowers? And what really happened to his arm? The story was that he got put to work outside and a walker got him, then Mike, some big guy in the pen, had to chop off his arm. It was a story that they both stuck to… but the thing is, none of the guards on the roof saw it happen. And the two of them were thrown in the pen a short while later that same day.

Coincidence? Vince, Russel and I don't think so.

"Now ya see ladies, I liked Reggie, I really did. Funny guy, kept things light. You need folks like that… it's easy to let depression sink in during times like this. But he was weak. And I don't just mean because he was maimed, that wasn't his problem."

Maimed? That word floated about in a sort of, word limbo. I could imply one thing, but mean something else entirely. And if there was one thing Carver knew how to do, it was take command of a conversation and spin it in whichever direction he pleased.

"He was weak of will. Weak of character. And I won't have that around here, not again, not anymore." Carver's rhythmic pacing ceased, coming to a stop directly behind Clementine's chair. "Before we begin, I want you ladies to take a good long look at that chair in the corner,"

We looked, although we wish we hadn't. It may have been our mindset at the time, but we hadn't really taken much notice of the seat when first we entered the room. Frankly I wish didn't have to again, at least before, we, or at least I, hadn't realized just how much blood coated the seat, dying the cushion a dirty maroon color. Several splatters were dotted about the surrounding floor, and a ring of blood outlined a large dent in the filing cabinet behind. Whoever had previously occupied that chair was not someone to be envied.

"Cause that's where you're gonna find yourselves if any one of you dare lie to me!" Carver left his imposing position behind us and took a seat on the desk in front of us. He reminded me of my old-school principal, the way he'd come into our class and silence the teacher, before leaning on her desk and staring down whoever dared meet his gaze.

"So, let's see if I've got the story down, proper like. And if there are any mistakes on my part, and our dearly departed Reginald, don't hesitate to tell me when I'm done. It could mean the difference between a talking to… or a night outside." Whether he meant outside as in 'The Pen' or outside with the dead was anyone's guess.

This was it, do or die time. If Sarah pinned this on me, I wouldn't last the night. Not out there, in the dark, let alone with whatever else is skulking around out there. And if Clementine sold me out, chances are I'd be tied to Carver's death chair, and a night out in the inky black wilderness would arrive too late. To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure which I preferred.

"This morning, I entrusted the growth and wellbeing of our harvest, to the late Reginald. The harvest that was intended to feeds the many huddled masses, that call our community 'home'. Like, for instance, your father," He gestured to Sarah, who trembled in her seat. "And your big sister." This time looking at me.

He couldn't though, he wouldn't. My sister hadn't done anything to anyone, at least not without good intentions. She was a good person, she always had my back and I always had hers. It wasn't fair, but what could I do? Except avoid his piercing eyes.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Golden Girl." Carver's attention was now fully focused on me, as was Clementine's and Sarah's to a lesser extent. I kept my mouth shut through fear that my teeth might start chattering. Though the tight knot in my chest as well as the little stiff lock in my neck told me not to, I forced my uncompliant body to cooperate. Close up, he was more terrifying than before. At least when we had our backs to him, I could imagine something better, but up close, he looked like he could take a fully grown polar bear in a fist fight… and win.

Up close, I could better make out the rough, unshaven mug that formed a raggedy looking beard. Patches of skin in between five 'clock shadow revealed the wrinkles brought about by age, or as my dad used to call them, 'Marks of Experience'. And on his shoulder, a tear in his scruffy brown coat was smeared in blood, if it was a bullet hole then I cursed the shooter that missed his head.

"That's better; See what happens when we do as we're told. Now, I put you up in that greenhouse, because I thought you of all people deserved an easy, but no less important job after all your hard work yesterday. And how do you repay my generosity? You start fights, you attack an unarmed girl and to top it all off, you willingly break plants that we as a community need to grow and survive." What happened to telling the whole story? Did Reggie blame me before he died? I looked to Clementine and Sarah for some sort of support but found their gaze avoiding mine at all cost.

"But I didn't…"

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, with a throbbing burning sensation in the side of my head. For a split second, my vison danced as if my eyes had been replaced with kaleidoscopes.

I won't lie, it hurt, allot.

But I wouldn't cry, I refused. Through my newly acquired headache and the dull ringing in my left ear, I could just make out Carver's voice as he stared down at my ragdoll-esq body on the floor.

"Let that be your one and only warning, when I say look at me, and to wait until I'm finished speaking, you'd better damn well do as your told!"

I hated him, I mean most everyone did, but we stuck with him because what other options did we have? People joined Howe's from the south-east and told stories about groups who wore Lurker flesh as masks and only ever spoke in whispers. Which sounded none to appealing. A group from the west coast mentioned safe-zones set up by the army, all of which fell after the soldiers developed a 'Carver Complex' and started picking and choosing who lives and dies. As if we didn't have enough problems with the dead.

Oh, and this one couple from the north mentioned something about taking over a shopping-mall, a crazy biker gang and a daring escape by helicopter, but Shel said not to take any notice.

Forcing myself up on quivering legs, I met Carver's glare and returned to my seat. To reiterate, I wouldn't cry. This quote-unquote 'man' didn't deserve the satisfaction. I'm the oldest of the three of us; as Shel would say, "It's a big sister's responsibility to set an example for the young ones…" Or something along those lines.

I got a glimpse of the others as I took my chair. Sarah looked mortified, whether she'd realized it or not, her hand was resting over the cheek where her father slapped her. Clementine was wide-eyed, her body remained still, but her fidgeting hands and darting eyes told me that her thoughts were running a mile a minute. I would have liked to know what they were, but of course that would have broken the big man's rules.

"This right here is exactly what I'm talking about. I hope the two of you were paying attention! If you disobey my rules, then you will be punished. Disobedience breeds laziness, laziness leads to mistakes and mistakes build and build until they break down the very foundations of everything we as a community have built!" Carver left his place on the desk to stare out at the shelf workers below. "I won't allow weakness in this paradise we live in. Not from you," Carver looked directly at me, before turning to face Sarah. "Or you, little lady. Don't think just because your daddy's the doctor, that it means you get a free pass to shirk your responsibilities. It don't work like that around here, not anymore."

It only dawn on me at that point, when Carver returned to his desk, that instead of sitting at his chair, he was doing everything but that. Did he do it to look imposing? Because if so, then he greatly underestimated his ability to exude fear and terror. Then again, he could be doing it to appear spontaneous and unpredictable. Lord knows, if he were to take a swing at me again or one of the others, it wouldn't surprise me in the least.

Sarah met his gaze, I guess she learned from me because she made no attempt to argue this shake up to her status-quo.

"Good girl, you see what happens when you follow my orders." Orders, not responsibilities, he definitely said 'Orders'. "We get along, and everyone benefits because of it." Carver's shit-eating grin did a one-eighty into a spiteful frown.

"But you haven't been a good little soldier yourself, have you sweetheart?" Sarah moved back ever so slightly in her seat, to where for a split second, I thought she might tip back and fall. "Ignoring for a second, your parental privilege from the good doctor, and your abandonment of our generosity and safety for the wild grey yonder. You decided to play rebel, instead of doing your part for the good of the fold!"

The last time I surfed the internet before the downfall of civilization, I found a picture of a scared tabby with its ears back with the caption 'Who Me?' underneath. Sarah mirrored the fear in that kitty's eyes to a tee.

"Here, have an apple." Carver picked up a red apple from a bowl on his desk and tossed it to her. Which Sarah fumbled with but caught in her lap. She looked confused, it was clear she didn't know if this was a good thing or not, like wanted to check with us or someone that this was okay, but that would be breaking the rules. "Well darlin', what are you waiting for? Eat."

Tangentially, Sarah raised the apple to her mouth, eyes darting back and forth between Carver and the forbidden fruit in her palms. You'd swear from her wet brow and timid extremities that the food had been poisoned, which, knowing Carver, might very well be the case. The room remained uncomfortably quiet as Sarah brought the food to her lips, the sound of a slow bite and subsequent crunch reverberated through both Clementine and I, from the corner of my eye, Clementine gave the slightest of quivers. Her tongue licked the corner of her lips ever so slightly, I could only assume she was getting hungry, something I could relate to. Not to mention, this whole situation had left my throat sore and my own lips rather dry. Each time Sarah chewed her bite of apple, it left us tense, as the only sound in the room, we could feel it. Why was Carver doing this? What was he going to do? My nerves were shot to hell and Clementine didn't look far behind. Sarah on the other hand looked like she was about to start crying. And Carver? He held that same neutral expression, his piercing gaze never left Sarah's quivering form.

Sarah swallowed and smacked her lips a little louder than expected, allowing Clem and I the opportunity to quietly exhale breaths we didn't realize we were holding. Our eyes remained forward, though we continued to hazard glances Sarah's way.

I felt bad for her, and that's something I never thought I'd say. Ever. I actually felt bad for Sarah the daddy's girl.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Whatever momentary relief we had, vanished. Carver, now sporting a frown that could give Squidward Tentacles a run for his money, leaned over his desk. I was sure, that at any minute he'd flip this desk over and come at us like the grizzly he is. "I told you to eat, now eat!"

There was no 'almost' about it now, Sarah was full on weeping. I've seem films where people, both men and women, had been forced to do things against their will. But the transition between the silver screen and reality was staggering. Each bite she took was more and more pained than the last, her tears ran down her bruised face mixing with the sharp apple juices escaping her mouth. An outsider looking in would swear this was her first meal in months… or her last meal ever. Unconsciously, my arms snaked around my midsection. My stomach hurt, and that coupled with the pulsing ache from my head, was causing my eyes to burn. I maintained that I would not cry but it was an uphill battle, and a losing one at that.

Clementine, however, remained firm. She frowned as her fists clenched in her lap, I could tell she wanted to act, to say something, anything to end this. But we could not, if we did, the consequences would be even worse, for all of us.

"That's right, keep eating! I want you to taste all the blood, sweat and hard time spent to raise and nurture this bounty, that you're stuffing into your selfish little mouth!" I felt compelled to reach over and place a hand over Clementine's. If nothing else, to stop her from doing something we'd all regret. But I knew what the result of that would be, so I stayed my wanting hand.

"You know what else I believe transpired upstairs?! I think the privileged little brat, couldn't face up to a day spent in the real world. Why work for the good of the group when your daddy can work for the good of you. Am I, right?!" If Carver was paying even the slightest bit of attention to Clem and me before, he certainly wasn't now. He was like a bull who'd seen something red, so close was he to flying off the handle, and his bloodshot eyes could attest to this.

Throwing caution to the wind, I reached over and placed my hand over Clementine's fists. For an instant, she glanced over at me. Whether calmed or confused, I wasn't sure, but whatever effect I made didn't last.

"You thought you'd throw a tantrum, and then daddy would come and make the 'bad people' go away. Is that it?! Well I've got news for you sweetheart, in this army, I am your commanding officer. And right now, you're nothing but a mindless drone to me, in the same rank and file as your father!" Carver reached into side draw of the desk and placed a small grey pistol on its surface with a metallic 'clunk'.

Caver had a gun! He didn't have to hold it, he didn't need to. Its presence was enough to halt the air in our lungs. Poor Sarah, and I never thought I'd think that, was a mess. Her face looked sticky, her hands definitely were, and what little remained of the apple was stuck to her sweater and jeans like a messy child.

"And you'd better believe, little lady, that I won't hesitate to march you and your father out into no man's land, naked at the day God made you, and watch as the walking dead drag the both of you, kicking and screaming, down into the fiery cauldron of hell!"

" **STOP IT!"**

Clementine's chair fell back as she leapt to her feet. For one brief, shining moment, Carver's anger physically subsided, if anything, Clem's boldness caught him off-guard.

"Leave her alone and let us go! It wasn't our fault. What happened was an accident!"

Carver made to speak, but Clementine wouldn't permit him to take back his mental strangle hold over us. Not again.

"What right do you have to hurt us?! You, brought us here! You, forced us to work together! And you, murdered Walter and Reggie when things didn't go your way! It wasn't me, or Sarah or Becca… it's You! Everything that's happened is, **Your Fault!"**

Any misgivings I may have had about Clementine at that moment were history. Gone and forgotten to the sands of time. I didn't know how old she was, what she'd been through or how she was raised. But in that moment, looking up at this strong, powerful, commanding figure, I didn't care. My pulse raced, my heart beat like a jackhammer, and my headache was forced to the wayside. Then and there, sat before a raving lunatic and a sobbing girl, Clementine worked her way to the forefront of my thoughts. Such a raw, unimpeded tower of strength, never had I felt so small and yet so… so…

I couldn't quite place, exactly what it was I was feeling. But whatever it was, it made my face feel red hot, almost burning. And my heart beat a mile a minute. It felt like… bats. Again.

Sarah's sobbing lessened, I swear, after Clementine's explosion, she became the crying girl's new personal hero. Move over, Dr. Carlos.

Once again, everything was still.

…

…

…

And then Carver reached for the gun.

…

…

…

But I got to it first.

I don't know why I did what I did at the time, maybe I was still energized by Clementine's hypnotic spell, or perhaps that knock to the head bruised my common sense. Either way, I saw his eyes drift downward towards the gun, and I knew, if I didn't get it and use it, he would.

Images of Shel, Vince, Russel, Eddie and Wyatt, Clementine, and even Sarah, being dragged outside, beaten, tortured and left for the dead filled my brain. My rational was gone, who's to say what he might really do, but as far as I was concerned, Carver getting his hands on that gun meant a death sentence for everyone I loved.

Yes, loved. I'd never say it like that, and if anyone so much as suggested that I did, I'd deny it. But my mind is a well-guarded castle for all my secrets and truths, and the real truth is… I'm kind of a bitch… but a bitch that cares, about her family and her friends.

And I won't let anyone hurt them. Not if I can help it.

Sarah and I jumped out of our seats as Clementine bounced back, most likely surprised by Carver's sudden action as well as my own. Like slow motion in an action movie, Clementine sighted me as I dashed forward, channeling my years on the school track team toward this one goal. 'Don't let Carver shoot my friend.'

I scraped the table with the edge of the gun when I grabbed for it, leaving a scratch in the varnish. Momentarily fumbling with the tiny thing, I clasped the pistol in both hands, aiming it directly at the self-proclaimed king of Howe's.

"Becca?" Clem seemed surprised and a little relieved, although more the former.

"Clementine," I couldn't check to see if she was listening; I wasn't about to take my eyes off Carver, not for a second. We were so close, I could end him there and then, no more forced manual labor, no more beatings, no more threats of death. Freedom, was but a trigger pull away.

Clementine sounded as though she'd come out of a daze. Had I caused it, as she had with me? I could only hope so, it felt good.

"You and Sarah run, get out of here, do… something." To be honest, I didn't actually have a plan. I'd been running on impulses this entire time.

"Delay that order, children!" Behind me, I could make out the scrape of denim on carpet as Clementine lifted Sarah from the floor. She must have fallen during the commotion. Thank heavens I got to the gun first, or she wouldn't have stood a chance.

And yet, Carver didn't so much as flinch. Even with a pistol aimed right between his eyebrows, he didn't backdown.

"Golden Girl… just what exactly are you planning on doing with that?"

I didn't answer him, instead I repeated myself to Clem. "Clem, get Sarah and run!"

"But what about you?" I heard Clementine say behind me, as someone else, presumably Sarah, backed away to the door.

"Just go back to your friends; I'm gonna shoot this bearded-psycho right in his moustache!"

Carver raised a hand, like an Egyptian pharaoh lording over his followers. "Stay!"

As Carver began to maneuver around his desk, I took a labored step back. My conviction was starting to wane, my legs wanted so badly to give out and collapse. But I wouldn't allow them, not till my friends were safe, and he was dead.

"You'd better get back! I'll shoot you, I swear I'll do it!" Caver paid my words no heed as he slowly advanced toward me.

My mind flashed back to the first walker I'd ever killed, back when it was me and my sister in a group that's long since dead. Our leader at the time, Roman, was for all intents and purposes, the poor man's Carver. The training wheels' version if you will. He was an asshole sure, he forced us to practice combat and hunting. But at least with him it was supervised, and against those already dead. He was bad, but nowhere near Carver's level.  
The corpse was of an old man, we'd found him at the diner we'd later move into, however temporary, and per Roman's insistence, he'd outlasted his usefulness. I guess 'outlived' was a little too 'on the nose'. The task was not for the faint of heart, or at least not for someone who'd only had practice with guns and knives on Lurker's that were chained up.

Roman intended for me to kill one that he would let off its leash, so to speak.

The same fear, that foreboding dread that the slowly advancing creature before me was not afraid, washed over me once more. And unlike last time, I didn't have Shel here to rush over and kill the beast and then slap the guy responsible. Except in this instance, those two were one and the same.

"Will you really, Golden Girl? And what will you do after, hmmm? What's your grand escape plan? I count six chambers on that little pea shooter there, against several dozen weapons trained men and women. And something tells me your pockets aren't full of bullets, now are they?" Carver was just trying to confuse me, he had to be. Well I wouldn't let him.

"Everyone wants you dead! Once you're gone, we'll walk right out of here. They'll probably thank me, I'm doing them a favor!" God, it felt so good to just unload all this anger and hatred on the bastard.

"You'd be getting what you deserve!" Carver paused at that, he seemed as surprised as I was to hear Sarah speak up.

"Oh yeah, how do you figure that? Your friend Luke ain't here to take charge no more, and who's to say someone worse won't take over once they learn I'm pushing' up daises?" How was he speaking so casually? I had him at gunpoint, he was done for.

"Anyone would be better than you! You're nothing but a murderer and a liar!"

And now that Clementine had thrown in her two-cents, I realized something. The three of us had flipped the tables, we were in complete agreement, We, were calling the shots now.

But Carver just smirked, he even chuckled a little. We had a gun pointed at him and he was laughing.

"You ladies… really are as naive as you look. Tell me something, why do you think it is that in all the time you've been here, or were here," I assume that was directed as Sarah and I. "That not once has there been a single fist fight, argument over food or 'adult transgression' against one of you or your friends and sister? Well? Do you know why?" Neither of us knew what to say. As it stood, I was never sure why none of the guys here ever bothered Shel or the other woman, usually leaving them to act as they chose. Unless the most progressive people in the country had all found themselves within Howe's walls, which given Troy's inclusion rules that out, it did give us pause for thought.

"I'll tell you why; because I wouldn't allow it. I am the one who forbade anyone to act on their animal instincts around you three and your loved ones. I am the one who keeps this community from delving back into the darks ages where it was every man, woman and child for themselves! I am the one who drives off the scavengers and the frauds of the outside, all looking to worm their way inside and destroy all we hold dear! Some people are born to lead, and others cave under the pressure. Children… I don't just lead Howe's!" This man was insane.

"I am Howe's!"

Sarah grabbed onto the back of my coat, holding handfuls of the back in a vicelike grip. Clementine meanwhile leant forward and placed her hand under the pistol, raising my aim ever so slightly. Now it was a kill shot. Clever girl.

"So, what's it gonna be ladies? Shoot me and hope for the best? Or give me the gun, and accept the reality we are all a part of." Carver held out his hand, so self-assured… I'd enjoy wiping that miserable smirk from his mug. Clementine nodded at me, and I knew this is what I had to do.

"Still worth it! Smile, you son of a bitch!"

I pulled back the trigger, in an instant, my world froze. I saw Clementine and Sarah reuniting with their friends and family, my sister running up to me and giving me one of her awkward sibling hugs, my group and Clem's group joining up and taking the leadership of Howe's for ourselves. The dark days of Howe's Hardware, gone in a flash.

Except, all that met our ears was a small metallic _'clink'_.

Panic set in as I desperately pulled back on the trigger again.

' _clink'_

' _clink'_

' _clink'_

Over and over, again and again, I pulled the trigger. But nothing happened.

And all the while, Carver laughed and held his sides.

In desperation, Clementine grabbed the gun from my trembling hands and continued to pull the trigger on the now 'clearly' empty gun. Sarah panicked, scared at just how rapidly the situation had reversed yet again, in her terrified state she turned and ran for the door… only to be knocked onto her back by Troy, standing at the door with a loaded assault rifle. Scurrying back in a mock crab walk, Sarah backed right into me.

But I was too shell-shocked to care. I collapsed to my knees; I made no effort to hide my tears as they finally outweighed whatever remnants of willpower once kept them at bay, running down my cheeks and staining my ugly green jacket. This was all my fault.

Carver wiped his eye and beckoned Troy inside, which he gladly accepted.

"Troy my boy, did you get all that?"

The garble of a tape-player rewinding, wrapped around my heart like a python. Things were about to get worse… because this was Carver's kingdom… of course it could only get worse.

"Got it all right here, Boss. Clear as a bell." Troy grinned down at us as his finger hit play.

It was all there, we listened to our entire back and forth with Carver a second time. Every insult, every bold accusation, every honeyed word and self-aggrandizing word from his person. He'd made us all dance to his twisted tune like puppets on strings. It all made sense now, the way he built himself up as a man of the people, the multiple offers of play nice and follow the rules, all of which sounded reasonable from an outside perspective. If Carver played this, with some careful editing, he could spin this whole thing in his favor and with it… Oh, the things he might do.

' _I've murdered us all!'_

It was all I could think, that one phrase, repeated like a skip on a record.

Clementine… I couldn't bear to look at her. All that confidence she'd given me, and I'd ruined it. If I'd just stayed in my seat, then Carver could've made his point and we could've faced our much less severe punishment. Hell, if it weren't for me jumping for the gun like I had, Carver's tape wouldn't have had nearly as much weight behind it.

And as for Sarah… Perhaps if I'd kept my mouth shut and hadn't been so easily offended, we'd still be working peacefully upstairs… and Reggie… he'd…

For the first time in a long time, I was scared. And so, I cried, right into my hands, under the judgmental gaze of everyone I'd wronged. Sarah was the same way; this whole day had taken a toll on her that had shocked her system to the core.

Clementine didn't cry. I could barely see, but I heard no weeping from her vicinity. I wouldn't look up, but I heard the distinct stomp of Carver's boots take two steps forward.

"This has turned out better than I ever could've imagined. You see ladies, originally my idea was to convince little Clementine here to help me 'weed out' the trouble makers out in the pen. Maybe convince those lucky enough to remain, that our way of life is their best… and only option." Clementine took a step back, this little factoid clearly caught her unaware. "Then we'd work on building the faith within those loyal enough not to abandon us. But now, with this… well, this changes everything."

It did… any thoughts of abandonment that may have crossed those of the inner walls would be crushed then and there. Now they knew what the stakes were if they left, or if Carver was replaced. A few well-placed words and the three of us would be the poster children for, 'The next generation without Carver's leadership'. One outsider, a deserter and me, the traitor, had tried and failed to assassinate Carver in his own office. No one would trust us again after a stunt like that.

"Now we'll work from the inside out, we'll bolster the ranks, unite the masses, and then hunt down the traitorous pigs wallowing in our pen. And I owe it all to the three of you." The man conducted us like a well-choreographed orchestra, and we played along to his sick song, beat for beat.

Carver trumped forward and took the tape player from Troy, and brought it to his console and sound system. "Oh and by the way ladies, about that little incident in the greenhouse… Reggie took the blame for all of it. What a standup guy, am I right?"

That hurt more than anything else, and is what finally forced Clementine to tear-up herself, silent tears gently dropped down her smooth face, soaking into the dirty carpet. Looking up, her face was obscured in shadow by her hat, but you didn't need to see her eyes to know exactly what she was going through. What all three of us were going through. Sarah balled her eyes out, louder than before, but neither Carver nor Troy cared enough to either calm or silence her.

Rhythmically, Clementine continued to snap the trigger. Her hand outstretched and aimed right at Carver like a woman possessed. Silently praying that some unknown force would magically put a bullet in that gun and end this. But nothing came of it. Such is life. Our lives.

"You know, I thought about letting you girls go, but… you'd be amazed what a person, or people will say," Carver picked up the walkie-talkie from the charging station. To our horror, the call switch was tapped down. _"If you leave them alone long enough."_ His voice came through on the radio on Troy's belt, clear as day.

He'd been listening! The entire time the three of us were arguing, he was listening. We gave him the whole story… before he even entered the room.

"I used to have a real problem with people, mainly Luke, trying to break in here and act like they're the top dog. So, I decided to get myself a little added security. And oh-me oh-my, how it payed off. I mean throwing someone under the bus like that, Sarah. What would your father say?" Carver shook his head in the most condescending way he could. Troy tutted his own disapproval, "For shame, little girl."

I wanted to hug them, both Clementine and Sarah. Tell them I'm sorry, try and do… something. But what could I do? Just like before, when I thought we had the power, the control, it was like Carver said. We didn't know what we were doing once we had it, no plan, no forethought, all of this though… Carver planned all of this. How could we fight this?

Simple answer… we couldn't. All we could do was face the crowds, the Lurker's, the noose. Whatever our fate may be.

We brought this on ourselves.

' _I give up.'_ It was the only thought I could muster. It was all I had left in me.

"Well ladies, this has been an exciting and in the case of the golden girl currently soaking my floor, 'revealing' evening. But if you'll excuse me, I've got an announcement to make to our dear community. And a conversation to play on loop that I'm sure everyone will be talking about come dawn tomorrow. But before I go…" Carver trudged back over to Clementine, the gun still held tight in her grasp, both hands now handing limp at her sides.

"Clementine, would you kindly bring me my gun? It's my favorite after all, and so reliable when I need it most." Carver laughed, only this time Clementine didn't fight him. Obediently, she held the gun out.

"Good girl… now, place in my hand." Carver held out his palm flat. Finger still on the trigger, Clem bit her cheek and pointed the barrel at an angle towards Carver's face. One final time we heard the heartbreaking sound _'clink',_ that had announced our ruin.

Carver chuckled under his breath, "A fighter till the bitter end, aye' Clementine? There may be hope for you yet."

Clementine looked up at him, her eyes ablaze. And for a split second, in that space between one and the next, and this I swear to be true… the big man flinched.

"I'm going to kill you, Carver! And unlike Kenny, I Won't Miss!"

Through my wracked sobs, the bats in the pit of my stomach returned. What was this girl doing to me?

"Maybe you will finish me off, Clementine," Carver snatched his gun from her and returned to the sound system. "But not today. Troy, return these would be killers to the pen. We've got allot of work ahead of us. And believe me, you three are going to work harder than you've ever worked before."

With that, Troy pointed his gun in our faces and commanded us to move. Neither of us did a thing to question him. All we could do was march single file, out the door, toward the pen, and whatever nightmares the night and tomorrow may bring.

And as the gruff voice of Carver rang out above our heads, one thing remained clear and it was an unspoken realization that the three of us unknowingly shared.

As of that moment, we were in this together.

The three of us, against a full Howe's of Cards, with its king secure, right at the top.

" _Attention please, attention please: This… is 'William Carver Howe'. Founder, Manager and leader of Howe's Hardware and the Howe's Safe Zone. My friends, I have some unfortunate news to share with you tonight. If you'd all like to direct your attention to the three young women currently on route back to their well-earned place within the pen. But don't let their appearances fool you… you won't believe what they're capable of…"_

 **A/N: Holy Crap. That was, by and large, my favorite chapter of something I wrote. Thanks, in abundance to everyone who's followed, favorited and reviewed thus far, it really helps me out to hear what you think, and I would love to hear your thoughts on this one as they meant a great deal to me whilst writing this.**

 **And as a bonus, I'm giving you… Yes You! The chance to have your say in how often these chapters come out. Because if there's one thing this story desperately needs, it's a release schedule. So, if you happen by my profile page, I've set up a poll, where you can vote and decide how often you'd like me to update. I look forward to reading your thoughts and ideas and hopefully we can get this story a proper update time. Thanks for reading and Happy Belated New Year, Everyone! XXXX**


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